White Dresses and Red Sox
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: A vacation in Boston, seeing the sights.


Title: White Dresses and Red Sox

Title: ScullyAsTrinity

Category: Romance

Thanks: First to Karen, who read the first draft and instructed me on how to finish it... and to Sheila, who broke it wide open. You're both so wonderful to me.

Summary: A vacation in Boston, seeing the sights.

A/N: You all know by now... I'm from Boston. I live in Boston and I love, love, love Boston. The smell of it, the taste of it, the people, the schools, the places, Salem, Lynn, Everett, Worcester. They're all pissah. I had to put Griss and Sara here because it's so right to me. Walk for Hunger, Museum of Science, The Gahden, just trust me on this, they'd be great here.

"Look at him!" Sara slid her eyeglasses down on her nose and looked below her. There was a comforting 'thwack!' coming from the little alcove and she watched the ball go back and forth, back and forth. "I mean, his muscles, he has to be on steroids."

She pushed the glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose and sat back in her seat, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. But there was nothing to protect herself from. Maybe some mosquitoes, the random peanut shell being flicked from somewhere above them.

The sun was warm and wonderful on their skin. It wasn't scorching like in Vegas. It was just relaxing and she smiled at the kiss of it on her face.

Grissom, next to her, swallowed a bit of his hot dog and nudged her arm. "He's not on steroids. That's what he's supposed to look like." He glanced down at the bullpen and was overcome with a need to kiss her. He did, on the cheek. She smiled and nudged him, grabbing her ice cream out of his left hand.

"I can't believe this cost me five bucks. For a freakin ice cream in a hat."

"That's a souvenir hat, Sara." Frowning, she thrust the spoon into her mouth and moaned in jest as the ice cream melted on her tongue.

"Yeah, this was so worth it." She murmured sarcastically. His brow shot up at that and he turned to her slowly, only to be met with a full spoon of swirl ice cream. He ate it and they laughed and laughed, and finished her ice cream off that way.

He smiled at her and tossed his hot dog wrapper on the ground. "Maybe you'll get lucky and catch a fly ball."

"You'll catch it for me." She replied, nudging his knee with hers.

The two of them twined hands and watched batting practice until she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"You know what I love about you? You can outgeek me at a Museum. And we are going to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum if I have to drag you."

He tut-tutted her and they both stood for the national anthem. And they both chanted 'Yankees suck!" when the rest of the bleachers did. And she double fisted her beers like a pro and talked with the fans around her, bitching about the right fielder.

A warm spring day, sitting in Fenway, he kissed her and taught her how to score the game and told her that he didn't want to have to live without her, ever.

Her name on the big screen, the words 'Did you know the mung beetle only mates once and won't leave the spouse once it dies?' He pointed it out to her and she couldn't help the flush that overwhelmed her. Sara looked back at him, her lopsided grin enchanting him for a moment before he spoke.

"You know, I've always appreciated the mung beetle, their dedication." His eyes twinkled in the blinding light of the sun, peeking around the Citgo sign.

And she kissed him then and whispered into his neck, "I do too."

His whisper was harsh when he spoke again, their eyes mere inches apart. "I could never place that bond, that forever, until I met you."

Sara was laughing uncontrollably, his arm around her. It was seconds before her giggles turned to tears, rolling down her face in waves, falling into his beard when she kissed him hard and long, ignoring the comments of the people around them.

Curt Schilling threw the first pitch and she was secure in his embrace.

He'd dropped nearly three hundred dollars on dinner. Clio wasn't a cheap restaurant, and if Sara had known what was up his sleeve, she would have objected vehemently. But he'd surely wined, dined and even danced her into submission and that when he suggested a walk along the Charles, she could only murmur her assent.

Her light sundress blew in the evening breeze, the sounds of tourists and students filling the air around them. They both knew exactly where they were going. Back towards campus, where they'd met nearly fifteen years before. The air diffused with notes of jazz from a trumpeter standing on the corner. The tune was sad and slow and Sara reached into Gil's pocket and grabbed his wallet, grabbing a twenty and tossing it down into the man's case.

"God bless you, beautiful." The man paused in his elegy to grasp her hand and kiss it. She emitted the throatiest laugh he'd heard all day and it made him pull her just a bit closer and kiss the top of her head. And they strayed from the river and made their way towards Harvard Square. They had a few hours before the T would close, so they decided to just wander.

They walked into the Coop and looked at books, purchased some for the hell of it. Sara tugged on his arm until they'd crossed Mass Ave. and the two of them wandered through Harvard Yard until they ended up on a bench by the Science Center, necking like teenagers.

Heading back nearly an hour later, they sat at Au Bon Pain for a while, simply holding hands and watching the chess players engage in match after match. The lights strung in the trees above them glittered in her hair and he was reminded of the treasure nestled in his coat pocket.

They ended their day at Peet's Tea, both sipping herbal blends on high chairs, watching people amble by outside. It was nice, being anonymous in a city, together. He blew a breath across his cup and sighed, grabbed her hand and squeezed.

"I love this city." Sara sighed, sipping her tea. It was nice, just being, just sitting, not talking, just basking in downtime. A vacation in her favorite city, with the love of her life. It was perfect. It was what she needed. It was what they both needed.

Sara toyed with the brim of her tea, tracing a pinky over the surface of the beverage and thought a brief moment about fate. She discarded it again and looked into his eyes, her mouth erupting in a supremely quirky smile.

"I love you." He said, grasping her hand.

And she returned to their hotel room, that night in Boston, with a shiny ring weighing down her hand.


End file.
